The tide of victory

The first reason for his restraint was even simpler. In addition to Nanda Lal's five assassins, there were dozens of soldiers within a few steps of the tent's entrance. Ye-tai, in the main, but with no small sprinkling of Rajputs among them. All of whom-so much had already become obvious to Nanda Lal-were as tightly bound to their commander Toramana as any of the soldiers of the splendid army from which they were temporarily detached were bound to Lord Damodara and Rana Sanga.

In short, this was the only army of the Malwa Empire where the work of assassins would surely be repaid, within a minute, by the work of enraged soldiers. Nanda Lal's assassins could kill Toramana, of that the spymaster had no doubt at all, even if the impressive-looking young warrior-general took two or three of them with him into the afterlife. But only if Nanda Lal was prepared to have his own hacked-apart body lying next to Toramana's a few seconds later.

And that, in a nutshell, is the entire problem. The empire cannot afford to lose this magnificent army. But can we afford to have them at all? If this razor-sharp sword ever turns in our grasp.

Long seconds of silence had gone by. Throughout, Toramana's eyes had never left those of Nanda Lal. Now, still without showing a trace of anxiety-emotion of any kind-the young Ye-tai general once again made that economical shrug.

'You are worrying too much, I think. Were his beloved wife to die, for whatever reason short of Malwa involvement, Rana Sanga would have all the more reason to weld himself to the dynasty.' In some subtle way, the next words came with a slight emphasis. 'For all his martial prowess, you know, he is not given to subtlety.'

Translation: I might have my doubts about 'unfortunate circumstances,' but Sanga would not.

Nanda Lal reviewed in his mind all he knew about the Rajput king, and decided the Ye-tai's assessment was accurate. That still left Damodara.

As if he were a mind-reader, Toramana spoke again.

'As for Lord Damodara, his gratitude at the emperor's generosity in providing his own family with a palace in the capital-safe from Roman assassins, and almost on the emperor's own doorstep-has also welded him completely to the dynasty. Not, in my opinion, that there was any reason to doubt his loyalty at all.'

Nanda Lal discounted the last sentence immediately. Pure diplomacy, that was. The operative sentence was the first. Translation: so long as Damodara's family is held hostage by the emperor, Damodara will remain obedient.

Again, Nanda Lal reviewed the assessment; and, again, decided the Ye-tai was correct. For all his brilliance, Damodara had never once shown any inclination toward boundless ambition. Some ambition, of course-but enough to cast a death sentence on his wife and children? And parents?

No. I have seen him playing with his children myself, in days past when his family visited the capital. He is a doting father and, by all my spies' accounts, a loving husband as well as a devoted son.

'Good enough,' stated the spymaster. The two words were abrupt, almost harsh. But not as harsh as the next: 'That leaves you.'

For the first time since he'd invited Nanda Lal and the priest into the pavilion, Toramana's face showed an expression. Humor, in the main, alloyed with a touch of irony.

'Me?' The word was almost a bark. 'Do you know my clan status within the Ye-tai, Lord?'

Nanda Lal nodded; then, extended his thick hand and waggled it a bit. 'Middling. Not high; not low.'

'More low than high, I think,' countered Toramana. The Ye-tai general cocked his head a little and gave Nanda Lal an inquisitive look. 'A question, Lord. What is the chance that I would ever be offered a marriage with a lady of the Malwa clan?'

Nanda Lal hesitated. In the silence, Toramana elaborated the question. 'Assume, for a moment, that I returned from the Roman war covered with glory. The victor on a hundred battlefields.'

'Possible,' grunted Nanda Lal. 'Not likely.'

Toramana's inquisitive look became almost inquisitorial. Nanda Lal sighed, and-again-revised upward his estimate of the man's intelligence.

'No real chance at all.'

The Ye-tai nodded. 'Purity of blood has always lain at the center of Malwa rule.' He gave the priest a little nod. 'As well as at the center of Mahaveda creed.'

The statement did not seem to be accompanied by any anger or chagrin. In fact, the Ye-tai chuckled. 'So be it. I am an ambitious man, Lord, but not a foolish one. The world has limits. So it is, so has it always been, so will it always be. I simply wish to reach my own, and nothing less.'

All humor left the hard face-half-Asiatic; half-occidental, as was the usual Ye-tai visage-to be replaced by stolidity. 'Now, perhaps, you understand.'

Silence, once again, filled the pavilion. For quite a long period, this time. Perhaps five minutes in all. Five minutes during which a Ye-tai general and a Malwa spymaster stared at each other; and a Mahaveda priest, knowing he was well out of his depth, tried to make himself as inconspicuous as possible.

'Good,' stated Nanda Lal, at the end of that silence. 'Not even 'good enough.' Simply: good. We understand each other, I believe.'

The Ye-tai general's nod was more in the way of a bow of fealty. 'Yes, Lord, we do. Allow me to advance as far as I may, in this world that is, and you need have no fear at all of the consequence.'

Nanda Lal spoke his last reservation. 'The day might come-with Rana Sanga as your brother-in-law-when, perhaps. '

'If that day comes, Lord, which would surprise me greatly-rest assured that I will do what needs to be done. True, blood flows thick. Ambition flows thicker still. Like a glacier out of the mountains.'

'And even a poet!' exclaimed Nanda Lal. Smiling cheerfully, he rose to his feet. For all his thickness of body, and decades of life, Nanda Lal was a vigorous and muscular man. He was on his feet before the priest had even started to rise.

'I look forward to long and mutually satisfactory relations, General. And I will make it a point to attend your wedding personally, whenever it might happen. And come what may.'

Toramana, now also standing, bowed deeply at the waist. 'I am honored, Lord.' When his head came back up, there seemed to be a slightly mischievous twist to his lips. 'But I give you fair warning-I will hold you to that promise. Come what may.'

* * *

Nanda Lal waved Vishwanathan out of the pavilion ahead of him. After the priest had left, the spymaster paused at the tent flap and gave the statue in the corner a hard and scrutinizing gaze.

'Ugly damn thing,' he murmured.

Toramana was standing a few feet away. The Ye-tai glanced at the statue, then made that little shrug.

'Ugly indeed. Much like me. And, like me, serves its purpose.'

Nanda Lal chuckled and left, revising his estimate of Toramana's intelligence yet again. Upwards.

The thought-now-filled him with good cheer. Not so good, of course, that he didn't instruct one of his spies to keep an eye on the general at all times.

* * *

The spy, unfortunately, did not really share his master's estimate of Toramana's brains. So, late that night, the Ye-tai general had no difficulty eluding him in the darkness. Had no difficulty, even, in keeping the spy completely unaware that he had done so.

And, since Narses was equally adept at evading the spies which had been set upon him, the two men made the rendezvous which had been agreed upon earlier that evening, in the course of an exchange of a pound of tea for an equal value of incense made by two of their servants in the informal 'market' which the soldiers and local villagers had set up on the banks of the Jamuna.

The exchange was also, needless to say, unobserved by Nanda Lal's spies. Both Toramana and Narses knew how to select servants.

* * *

They met in a small tent, set aside for some of the troops' more perishable goods. Narses was already there, perched on a sack. As soon as Toramana entered, he spoke.

'Tell me everything that was said. Word for word.'

In the minutes which followed, Toramana may not have actually repeated the entire conversation, word for